Praise ye the Lord, my heart shall join In work so pleasant, so divine; Now, while the flesh is mine abode, And when my soul ascends to God. Praise shall employ my noblest powers, While immortality endures; My days of praise shall ne'er be past, While life, and thought, and being last. Why should I make a man my trust? Princes must die and turn to dust; Their breath departs, their pomp, and power, And thoughts, all vanish in an hour. Happy the man whose hopes rely On Israel's God; He made the sky, And earth, and seas, with all their train, And none shall find His promise vain. His truth forever stands secure; He saves th' oppressed, He feeds the poor; He sends the laboring conscience peace, And grants the prisoner sweet release. The Lord hath eyes to give the blind; The Lord supports the sinking mind; He helps the stranger in distress, The widow and the fatherless. He loves his saints, He knows them well, But turns the wicked down to hell: Thy God, O Zion! ever reigns; Praise Him in everlasting strains.
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